


Morning

by In_Time_of_Peril



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-22
Updated: 2015-11-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 19:11:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5260331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Time_of_Peril/pseuds/In_Time_of_Peril
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two mornings, one which begins with the ordinary and ends in the extraordinary, the other which begins well and ends in grief.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place just before and well after the events of _Face the Raven_.

She wakes a little ahead of her alarm, but forgets to switch it off, so she's already in the bathroom, naked and about to step into the shower, when it bleats.

The alarm taken care of, Clara returns to the bathroom, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

"Looking good," she smiles.

The first blast of water is like an insult, an icy slap across her thighs before the warmth works its way through. The little shock sends a shiver up her spine, and she remembers the old expression about a goose walking over your grave. That brings to mind Danny; Danny as he was before everything ended, then went bad. Danny, smiling.

That thought pulls forward memories of her mother, of other people she has known and loved and lost. Relatives, friends. The Doctor, or at least the one he was when she first traveled with him. And then, for some reason, her mind turns to Lucie, a girl she sort of knew in her school days who just up and disappeared eventually. Why thoughts of the Doctor should work up thoughts of Lucie, Clara is uncertain. She shakes her head and begins to wash, concentrating instead on her plans for the day.

There are some things to grade, but those can wait for this evening. She's got her occasional Saturday volunteering to do, tutoring at the youth centre. There are always more than enough hands, and she could just blow it off, but she finds it actually rather pleasant. Of course, she can think of other Saturdays when she has done things even more pleasant.

She's thinking of Jane as she leaves the shower, and remembering an afternoon spent under trees, laughing and kissing and sharing silly stories before the Doctor showed up and told Clara they needed to leave, and **now**.

Once, after she had realised that one of her fellow volunteers at the youth centre - well, actually, Mel properly **runs** the place, being as she's so highly placed at A Charitable Earth - had also known the Doctor, had even traveled with him, Clara had let slip about some of her escapades with Jane. Mel had blushed and giggled.

"Oh my. She never kissed **me** like that!"

Clara feigned shock and lightly smacked the older woman's arm.

"Melanie Jane Bush, you little minx."

That's the last thing Clara thinks of as she's whipping a comb through her hair, before she gets distracted by the grinding, whooshing noise in the front room.

She runs out, a towel around her, the comb still tangled against the left side of her head, and the Doctor is just stepping out of the TARDIS.

"Time for a little trip?" he asks, no doubt already aware that Clara will not, will **never** , say no.

"Just let me get dressed and make a quick phone call," she says, knowing that she can take just the one day off from volunteering.

"Where are we going?" she asks the Doctor moments later, skidding into the TARDIS console room.

"I thought you might like to see the second most beautiful garden in the universe."

He punctuates the sentence by slamming down a lever, and Clara frowns.

"Only the second most beautiful?"

The Doctor shrugs and takes up a copy of _La Cousine Bette_ that's threatening to slide from the edge of the console.

"Have to save something for a special occasion."

*** _ **Some months and two centuries before**_ ***

She feels well enough, when she wakes, to rise and dress (with help), to eat and then even to write a little.

The day is bright now, but there is a threat of dark clouds to the southwest, and the leaves rustle with a sharpish breeze.

Well before noon, Cassandra comes and tells her of a visitor.

"Do you think, Jane dear, that you might have the strength to come downstairs?"

Jane smiles and nods; she heard the wheezing thud some distance from the house. She always has the strength for a visit from the Doctor.

Cassandra helps her on the last part of the stairs. Their visitor is in the parlour, and he offers a stiff little half-bow when they enter.

"My dear, dear Doctor!" Jane murmurs, and feels an edge of excitement, hoping that this guest is not all alone.

"Miss Austen," the Doctor burrs softly, then nods also to Cassandra.  
"And Miss Austen."

"Well, Doctor, have you come with a cure for our Jane?" Cassandra asks pleasantly, almost jokingly, and for a moment, the Doctor seems almost to smile.

Jane wonders if even the Doctor is as in denial about her condition as the family seem to be.

"No, no, I'm afraid - no."

"At least you've brought Miss Oswald with you, I hope," Jane says, seating herself carefully.  
"I know that her company could do me a power of good."

"No, I - Miss Oswald is - she won't..."

He trails off, his heavy grey brows shading his eyes as he glances to the window.

"There's not - I do hope that she's well?"

"Oh, she'll - I'm certain - Miss Oswald will be - fine. She - I would like to extend her regrets that she could not join me on this visit."

Jane catches the look in his eyes. She has seen it often enough, and she knows from the way he holds himself that the Doctor has seen, and borne, this look a thousand times. Inside her chest, she feels something like a snap, like the distinct breakage of some vital part of her self.

The Doctor, she suspects, has also experienced this feeling.

"You will surely stay with us," she presses him, "at least for a little while?"

"No. No, I've - I must be on my way. Only I did want to stop as I was passing and to - to tell you - to say hello to you."

"Thank you, Doctor. You are so kind."

When he's gone, Cassandra asks if Jane would like to go back upstairs.

"No. I would - I should very much like to sit for a moment. Thank you, dear."

Cassandra goes quietly, leaving Jane to her solitude. She will not go far, of course, and Jane knows there is every chance that her sister will hear her sobs, her wailing. Her complete loss of restraint.

Somehow, in spite of the strength she felt earlier in the morning, Jane cannot bring herself to care.

 


End file.
